


Won't Live Forever (I Am Brand New)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Lesbian Courier, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: August is captured outside Goodsprings by Benny & co.





	Won't Live Forever (I Am Brand New)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Walk the Moon's "We Are the Kids."

They catch her outside of Goodsprings, and they only manage to do it because she’s asleep.  Normally, she’s a light sleeper, but she hasn’t been sleeping well recently. August has been so tired, that at this point, she’s dead to the world, curled up in an abandoned shack.

It’s a swift kick to the ribs that wakes her up, and she reaches for the knife at her hip.  This isn’t the kind of wake up call that she was hoping for. 

“Not so fast, lady,” a nasally voice says.  “We’ve got three guns trained on you, so I suggest you make this nice and easy.”

August’s eyes adjust to the darkness, and she looks up to see her attackers.  There are three men. Two who look like they’re part of a gang of some kind, and a man in a snazzy checkered coat.  He seems to be the leader; the other two are looking at him, and he’s the one who talked.

“Hello,” August says, making sure her hands are very, very visible.  “Can I help you?”

“Shut up,” one of the gang members says.

“It’ll be real hard to help you that way,” August says.

“I said shut up,” the man repeats, kicking her in the ribs again.

August groans as pain blossoms across her chest.  This isn’t going to end well for her. She can tell that already.

“Now, now, is that any way to treat a lady?” checkered coat man says.  “Just tie up her hands and take that weapon away from her.”

The two gang members obey him, confirming her suspicions about the hierarchy here.  Soon enough, her hands are tied in front of her and her knife is confiscated. They take her second knife, strapped to her calf, and, of course, they don’t let her have her nailboard back.  

“Now, you’re gonna give us the platinum chip, so’s that way, this can be real easy for you.  Maybe you even walk out of here under your own power,” checkered coat man says. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” August says simply.  

“Don’t play stupid, babydoll.  It’s not a good look for you,” checkered coat man says with a grin.  He cocks his gun, gesturing at her with a flourish. “Where’s the package?”

“Oh,  _ that  _ package.  Gotcha,” August says.  “You shoulda been more clear.”

“Stop stalling,” one of the gang members says.  

August crawls towards her pack, but the gang member kicks her again.  She falls flat with a groan and looks up at the men with irritation.

“Do you want the thing or not?” August asks.  “It’s in my pack. I don’t sleep with it under my pillow, you ass.”

“Gimme her pack,” checkered coat man says.  

August glares up at the man as he digs through her pack.  There are a lot of random treasures that she’s collected on her travels that checkered coat man just throws aside, like they’re worthless.  It sets her teeth on edge. 

He throws the carved spiked lizard that Lawrence made for her on the ground, and August scoops it up quickly.  The men are ignoring her, so she’s able to tuck it into her breast pocket. It’s not going to help her escape, but it was a gift from her brother.  There could be nothing more precious.

“Here we go!” checkered coat man says.  

“Oh, good, now we can go our separate ways.  Nice meeting you fellas,” August says. 

“Cute,” checkered coat man says. 

He takes a step forward and August surges to meet him, headbutting him in the groin.  Checkered coat man swears as he buckles over, but before she can capitalize on it, there’s a laugh behind her, a clunk against her skull, and then nothing but darkness.  

-

Her head is pounding when she comes to, taste of copper in her mouth.  It reminds her that she’s in danger, so she stays quiet as she opens her eyes. 

Two of the men are talking, and the third is nowhere to be found.  A minute of careful, slow head tilting later, she finds him; he’s digging her grave.  Great.

August tugs at her bindings, hoping she can get free.  

“Guess who’s waking up over here,” the gang member not digging her grave says. 

“Time to cash out,” checkered coat man says, turning his attention to her.

“Get this over with,” the gang member says.

“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain’t a fink, dig?” checkered coat man says.

Great.  She’s being murdered by some gangster out of a holovid.  August doesn’t even know what a fink is.

“If you really wanted to not be a fink, you could not shoot me,” August suggests helpfully.  “Killing me would be the fink-est.”

Checkered coat man laughs and twirls his gun.  “Aw, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart, really.”

“Oh, good,” August says.  “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“I can’t have any loose ends.  There’s too much at stake, baby,” Checkered coat man says, not unkindly, considering he’s discussing murdering her.

“Too bad,” August says.

She draws herself up to her knees; she’s not going to die laying on the ground like a wounded dog.  No, she’ll look her killer in the eye.

August reaches into her pocket, where she secreted her gift from Lawrence.  With a jolt, she realizes that it’s gone. It must’ve fallen out in the struggle, or when they dragged her out here.  

That fills her with a kind of hopeless despair.  Dying alone isn’t ideal, but at least with the carving, she could feel close to Lawrence.  Maybe it’s what she deserves.

Lawrence and his husband may have survived her negligence, but being hung on a cross by those Legion bastards seems like an ordeal much more terrible than what she’s going through.  Especially hanging by someone you love, knowing that they’re experiencing the same thing.

It was her duty to guard their little caravan.  No one else’s. 

And now Lawrence is going to think she disappeared on him for good.  He’ll be better off, she’s sure.

With that thought- that Lawrence will have a happy life, with his husband- she puts a smile on her face as the checkered coat man stares down at her.  

“From where you’re kneeling, this must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck.  Truth is… the game was rigged from the start.”

The shots ring out, piercing in the quiet desert night.  She expects it to hurt, but August doesn’t feel anything at all.  

August always thought that when she died, especially if it was something dramatic like being executed, she would see her life flash before her eyes.  Her parents, the home by the lake that they left when she was twelve, the caravans they travelled in, her brother’s wedding, holding her first girlfriend under the stars- all of it played out so she could live it one last time.  

It’s just darkness.

* * *

Her mouth is full of dirt, and she can’t breathe; her lungs are screaming for air.  It bothers her that apparently dead people still need to breathe. What a rip off. 

Wait a minute, maybe she’s not dead.  Shit. 

If she just lays here, she’ll die eventually.  She’d assume, at least. 

That’s not an option, though.  She can’t remember why, but she has to fight towards the surface.  

Her arms are so weak, but she pushes against the dirt anyway.  It’s loose, so she manages to make some headway, but she doesn’t know how much further she has to go.  

Cool air on her hands.  Metal around her wrists, and she jerks away.  Metal around her wrists makes her feel panic; she has to get free.

She can’t get away; the metal jerks her up through the dirt, wrenching her shoulders, but getting her out far quicker than she could herself.  There’s sand and dirt still in her mouth and nose, so she can’t breathe. 

She wants to cough and sputter to dislodge the dirt, but her whole body has stopped responding to her wishes.  It’s too deeply exhausted. 

Her body goes limp, suspending her by her wrists.  A cowboy robot is holding her, and she feels like this is now a good time to succumb to unconsciousness.  

* * *

Somehow she remembers her name when Doc Mitchell asks.  August, short for Augusta, rolls off her tongue when he asks, and it feels like it’s probably true.  

But she’s lost most of her memories from before.  She can remember the man who shot her, who buried her, but everything before that is just a void.  Maybe she didn’t exist before that.

After she helps run off the convicts from Goodsprings, she heads East, towards Primm.  Might as well follow after whoever shot her. Plus, she’s curious about the delivery order Doc Mitchell gave her.

While scavenging in an abandoned shack, her fingers stumble across some wooden carving.  She holds it close to her face, so she can see the fine details of the carving.

It’s a lizard covered in spikes.  The carving looks surprisingly life like, and she’s impressed by whoever carved it.  

August puts the carving in her breast pocket and continues scavenging.  When she hits Primm, she’s able to sell it for a nice amount of caps.


End file.
